


My Old Addiction

by Sangerin



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-28
Updated: 2007-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/pseuds/Sangerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Zoe wanted was to be backed up against a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Old Addiction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nevereverend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/185712) by [Sangerin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/pseuds/Sangerin). 



> Powerplay with someone other than Tessa. Title from the song on kd lang's album "Drag".
> 
> "Nevereverend" is the 250 word version of this story.

She couldn't stop.

It was dizzying. Having her close, seeing her smile. Seeing her run her fingers along her husband's forearm while she was looking across the room, looking at Zoe instead of at her husband.

That was the prelude, the foreplay, the seduction. Fiona flirted with her husband and another woman at the same time, and Zoe couldn't drag her eyes away. Couldn't convince herself that there was a better path to take than following Fiona around the room with her eyes; than letting Fiona slide her foot up Zoe's leg under the briefing room table; than letting Fiona brush against her deliberately before she crossed the room to kiss Adam in front of the whole Section.

It was an effective technique. All Zoe wanted was to feel Fiona's weight pressing into her, to be backed up against a wall, any wall: Fiona's lips against hers, Fiona's hand drifting, rushing, higher and higher up Zoe's thigh.

The first time it actually happened was – cliché of clichés – in the bathroom. Zoe had finished a tough de-brief, and was splashing water on her face. And Fiona walked into the room and just stood there, watching her, until she leaned over and wrapped an arm around Zoe's waist, pulling their bodies together. Zoe looked into Fiona's eyes and saw a possessive gleam, and she melted into Fiona and her knees buckled. Fiona turned them around so that Zoe's back was against the hard glass mirror. The mirror held her up while Fiona kissed Zoe and sucked on her lips, and pushed a hand up beneath Zoe's blouse and bra and roughly rubbed a thumb across Zoe's breast. And then left.

The second time was just a swift, hard, breath-stealing kiss in the alley behind Thames House that left Zoe seeing stars and feeling the steel of the fire-escape biting into her back.

The third time Fiona pinned Zoe against the wall outside the flat Zoe shared with Danny. They didn't care about noise or what Danny would think if he saw them, or what the neighbours would think if they saw Fiona's hand pushing beneath Zoe's waistband, or Zoe's hand beneath Fiona's shirt.

The fourth time was in Zoe's bed, with Danny out chasing his latest skirt. They started the evening with wine and the glasses were accidentally kicked off the table. One shattered, the other didn't.

The fifth was in Fiona's. Wesley was away at school, of course, and Adam was off somewhere playing James Bond. They shared the bed where Fiona slept with Adam, and Zoe laughed at Fiona's stories and imitations of her husband, lumbering and over-confident, and completely unable to satisfy his wife. And then Fiona cuffed Zoe's hands to the bedpost, and spread Zoe's legs wide.

Six, seven and nine in Fiona's silent house. (Eight was back in the bathroom off the Grid, more than a kiss this time, much more, and with no regard for cameras or colleagues.)

At "more than nine" she stops counting. She's already stopped thinking about Will, about Adam. She doesn't care, and Fiona whispers in her ear that she doesn't care either. That all Fiona wants is Zoe, anywhere and everywhere. And Zoe is so besotted that she will do anything for one more moment with Fiona.

It's never all night, but she doesn't care. It's never free and easy, and it's never her choice what happens or when or how, but she doesn't care. She can smell Fiona on her skin, and taste Fiona on her lips, and she doesn't want to lose the bite and spice and subtle, delicious pain that this brings to her life.

She hasn't felt this way since Tessa.


End file.
